We still kept talking on the phone. I booked a movie in
New Orleans like the next day, and two weeks after that I
was in New Orleans.
I always talked to him on the phone, but I never told him
where I was in New Orleans. I never told him what hotel,
the name of the movie, or anything.
At that point in time, I was very superstitious. It was
mainly because of Kevin Hart. He gave me this advice as I
started to get going:
Kevin Hart: “Don’t be telling people everything that
you’re doing, because motherfuckers will try to make
you fail. Just do your shit. You ain’t gotta tell
everybody you got a movie. Just do the fucking movie,
Tiĉany. Like don’t tell people where you’re at, because
they’re going to come for you. ͳey’re going to come
for you. Because people will be trying to do bad stuĉ.
ͳey think bad thoughts, and they jealous, and they
will try to fuck you up.”So I never told him what the name of the movie was,
what kind of part I was playing, nothing. I just said “I’m
working,” that’s it. “I’m working. I’m in New Orleans
working.”
One night, I was out drinking at the Cats Meow all tipsy,
and he called my phone.
Tiffany: “When are you coming to see me?”